


Your Own Way Back

by emoascetic (nerdloved)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Basketball AU, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:24:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdloved/pseuds/emoascetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he liked to imagine what his life would’ve been if he acted much more average than he was now. If he ignored all the training and stayed at the college level, and then floundered off somewhere else. Tyler wasn’t sure if that version of him is more brave than what he is now, or if he’s more happy now than he would be otherwise. </p><p>In which Tyler doesn't create Twenty One Pilots, but goes into basketball instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Own Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know that much about basketball.  
> So I'm not going to focus on the basketball.

Tyler wasn’t sure when he woke up, 26 thousand feet in the sky, in a private jet full of men. He almost screamed, but instead shut it down, slightly sweating and making sure no one else is awake enough to see him. Chris mumbled next to him, but fortunately doesn't crack an eye open, instead turning the other way and Tyler breathes a small sigh of relief before slouching forward and taking his head in his hands.

"Hey, bro, you okay?"

Tyler jolted a bit in his seat. So not everyone was asleep. The man far across from Tyler, Don, had always freaked Tyler out from the moment Tyler was shyly introduced to the team, all those years ago. He was the type Tyler would run away from, a guy who Tyler was pretty sure saw right through him. Don was a straight up “bball” player, serious, tall, and one of the most athletically gifted people Tyler has ever had the pleasure of meeting. But basketball players, always the silent types. Full of pure muscle and raw, raw strength but in a different way from football players. If Tyler hadn't already been initiated into the sport since childhood, he would've been scared of the pros. Scared in a good way though, the type of person he would look at from a distance and maybe nod. Or run from if he was in high school.

He was nervous around others for different reasons though. Their height on him, their raw aggressiveness on court (and sometimes outside), and their aura of confidence oozing out of each and every sleeping body in the plane. Except Don, who was still eyeing him quizzically. That man had way too much raw potential to be a professional athlete, too much intelligence and way too much acute awareness of what was going on with everyone around him.  

"Yeah, m'just tired."

Don looked at Tyler for a couple of seconds before turning away, his strong eyes finally leaving Tyler’s conscience. It had been awhile since Tyler really felt, and Don had probably somehow picked up on that. It had been awhile since the blood rushed through his veins and made him feel alive. He wasn’t sure really when feeling left him, spilling out from under the door like some mug that had been shattered. Tyler was sure he had it when he got drafted, when he played in college, when he had purpose. He still had purpose. It was just getting harder and harder for Tyler to come to.

So he didn't really feel alive. But he didn't really feel like he was dead either.

Tyler had plenty to live for. He had a great family, a great job, and he’s guaranteed financial stability for pretty much the rest of his life. That’s a lot more than what most people could ask for. And he needed to get his mind out of the gutter because they all have the last game of the season. Everyone would be watching, especially his parents. Dear god, they took fans to a brand new level.  Tyler sighed again and leaned back into his seat again. Maybe he should just get some shut eye instead and like that, his mind is gone.

He woke up an hour later as the plane landed, and like everyone else. Out and into the jungle. The somewhat familiar jungle of Columbus, Ohio. He closed his eyes and it almost felt like home, the streets that were so comforting, but the people that make Tyler so anxious inside, his insides twisting up over and over and over again. It was a little stressful going home because _people knew who he was_. Tyler Joseph, the local success. That was him.

Tyler was aware he wasn’t a nobody anymore, but he’d be damned if he won’t try to blend in with everyone else. After the game, after all the press he’ll have to go through either outcome of the game, he planned to go home and just hang out and sleep for a very long while. Until the very moment he absolutely had to go out to practice for summer league, which would probably be days later. But that was the future, all he had to do was one more game. One more, Joseph. That was the mantra for the day, as he numbly stepped out behind everyone else on the team. And bam, like that it was wild at the jungle.

Everyone was yelling at Tyler, which he’s gotten more used to now. After he had apparently proven himself a competent player, his small pond had suddenly exploded into a supernova. All these offers, and all these people suddenly wanted a piece of the Tyler Joseph. It’s a good thing he stopped being so emotional about this stuff, because it didn't seem very hard to crack under all the attention. 

Somebody once told Tyler that any attention is good offhandedly one day, which he presumed is true for people who crave to be seen by anyone and everyone, but he kind of believed that it was a full load of bull. Tyler didn’t need attention, not when he’s walking down the street to buy some pants at Target. 

Sometimes he liked to imagine what his life would’ve been if he acted much more average than he was now. If he ignored all the training and stayed at the college level, and then floundered off somewhere else. Tyler wasn’t sure if that version of him is more brave than what he is now, or if he’s more happy now than he would be otherwise. Sometimes Tyler liked to imagine having a different job, knowing different people.

And usually that was the cue to shut his brain off and start nodding numbly to random stimuli. Mind set to autopilot, which just so happened to be the predicament he was in now. Journalists, interviewers, paparazzi, whoever’s talking to him get standard replies.  
  
“I’m thankful for the opportunity to play at the Finals.”

“We’re looking forward to hopefully winning.”

“Yo dude, happy birthday.”

He hoped this gives the impression he’s taking in all this information in real time, cracking a smile and saying some half witty comment that never really had a moment to shine. Tyler doesn’t really need to talk, not right now. There were few times where he actually needed to use his mental capacity to talk. So it’s more like Not Tyler talking, the surface stuff. The Tyler that can handle people and new places and the smell of a basketball. The Not Tyler did a splendid job though, and he got in the car along with the rest of his teammates with the Not Tyler still on.

“You should take it way more easy, Joe.”

Tyler wasn’t really sure where this Joe thing came from, but it happened, and now he can’t seem to shake the TyJo off the lips of the random stranger. So now Tyler was Ty or Joe sometimes even both. A little annoying, but it’s better than some of the other nicknames people in the league have. They got memed up on the internet. As far as people knew, Tyler didn’t use the internet. He was basically the old man of the NBA at this point. And he certainly wasn't a meme.

But the team's looking at him like they're about to play the last game of their lives. Which, he guessed, they more or less were. Play every game like you want to win and all. Tyler never really got it, not until he was actually there, in the moment. After a moment of silence Chris and everyone else started their mouths again. The moment was gone, if it was even there in the first place, but yet again Don was the last one to follow the trend. Don really did stress Tyler out.

He nodded at Don, and he nodded back. It has pretty much definite that Don knew that Tyler was losing his goddamn mind one piece at a time by this point. And Don leaned over and shook Tyler's shoulder gently, a heavy hand that has a much tighter grip than even his father's without even meaning to, and then the moment was officially gone. As if Don was the person who deemed whether or not Tyler could breathe at night.

And most of the times it was Tyler didn’t breathe at night. He laid there, waiting for a release and he takes long, long breaths. It was a game of how close could he inch toward death without actually ruining his life in one swift movement. Most of the time he felt like he got pretty close.

And as the senseless chatter of his teammates, most of which actually consisted of loud yelling and boyish dances to rap songs, Tyler tilted his head back and closes his eyes. Damn, he must look tired. He hoped someone wasn't recording Tyler being a loser in the corner of a limo while everyone's doing their thing. He can see the tweets now: "TYLER JOSEPH IS A STR8 UP PRUDE" (Was that even how people tweeted nowadays? Tyler wasn’t so sure.) It also happened to be probably true in comparison to how much his teammates were getting these past few days. It was not a tough world for a single professional in any sport, say the right things and all of the sudden everyone wanted a piece.

It was usually directly proportional to how much press you were getting, and Tyler happened to be the main focus nowadays. Don was pretty popular too, and together they were dubbed the "JoGlo Bros" because no one could quit with the last name thing. Tyler didn't have a girlfriend, unlike Don, so that really must have made Tyler a true and true prude. It wasn't even like people weren't trying to date him, Tyler himself was undateable. It really wasn’t them, it was him.

The noises outside were starting to fade in Tyler's head. When this happens, and he only made sure it happens in the presence of people who wouldn't care otherwise, he kind of just... zones out. Clocks out for the time being, and instead he was replaced by a silent shell. That’s when the Not Tyler leaves. Sometimes Tyler wondered if the rest of the team thinks he had something off in his head. He probably did, all things considered, sitting alone and not truly taking advantage of the party scene offered to him.

Tyler’s slept with a couple of people in the party joint, before he actively left the party joint, and the act almost felt like a side comment someone puts in after the conversation is over. A girl giving up her body for him, a guy who very willingly opened up his pants for Tyler, an empty bed, what was the difference? He still keeps in contact with most of them, and at least tried to communicate with the ones who left as soon as they realized how fucked up this all was. One guy he knows, Brendon, is something else and gorgeous, but way too loud for Tyler.

They were drunkenly dancing on top of each other just as Tyler was starting out in basketball, and as the lights bounced and the floor was bashing against his skull, they ended up at Tyler’s modest place. And when the two woke up, Tyler knew he was in deep shit.

“Oh shit,”

“Oh shit oh shit ohshit.”

Brendon had then shaken his head sleepily, which would have been kind of cute if Tyler didn’t start having troubles breathing. And that’s when Tyler started noticing a lack of cohesion, the very moment Brendon Urie started grinding him on the godforsaken dance floor. And that’s the moment Tyler started to lose faith in what he believed.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Brendon had replied, combing his fingers through his hair and squinting to make sure he was seeing what he was actually seeing. It was a wonder Brendon had stayed, after Tyler’s meltdown. It was kinda even more of a miracle Brendon didn’t hate Tyler after that, after sleeping with him and telling Brendon bluntly that he was Not Interested Thank You.

“I’m straight." 

Brendon looked at him skeptically after that, eyeing his face and the marks they made on each other’s bodies.

“And that’s why you slept with the first guy who started making moves at you.”

That kind of hurt Tyler, but there wasn’t much he could do. And he was miles away from telling anyone he could possibly be a little bit gay. Maybe not straight. Tyler didn’t want to think about it. But then Brendon had let go of the topic after that, toying with the bed sheets and then getting up at last. Then they got to know each other over breakfast and maybe a little bit of lunch. Tyler, straight out of college and very recently drafted into the NBA. Brendon, a year older and lead singer for a band, maybe he’s heard of it? (Tyler hadn't heard of it and didn’t really catch the name after, something about discos, but personally Brendon hadn't made out to be a disco guy to Tyler.)

He didn't stress the whole band thing though, and when they finally parted ways, with Brendon leaving Tyler's apartment with a promise to "hang out without sex next time,” Tyler was alone in his, albeit small, apartment with a crumpled paper containing Brendon Urie's phone number. And that was the closest Tyler had ever gotten to someone he slept with for a day.

And it was also the story as to why Tyler received slightly suggestive texts from a said Urie. He really did end up close to that bastard. 

 **Brendon Urie:**  


GOOD LUCK JOESPH !!!! say hi to da fam 4 me  
**joseph lol  
I know ur name  
  
y u no answer  
we got a show comin up in ohio u should make it  
tyler i miss u!!!  
how much free stuff u gonna get when u win  
more importantly can you get me the free stuff  
we need 2 hang  
tylerrrrrr

Oh blew ur chance Joseph I gtg now duty calls

 

 **Tyler Joseph:**  
I'll say hi for you anyways  
send the deets about the concert 

 **Brendon Urie:**  
:) will do BRO :)  
also hmu with that free stuff

Tyler didn't answer after that. Party scenes can be damned if everyone's was as outgoing as Brendon, but he couldn't help but crack a small smile in a shaded car taking the team Tyler was somehow a part of, to the arena in their hometown. Apparently the plan was to practice, get interviewed and practice some more. They would practice for years given the time, but all Tyler was looking forward to was some nice R&R and quiet time alone. It was pretty definite that the next two days were going to be hell, whether or not they lose.

It was an interesting life to say the least though, all the people he’d screwed and all the practice the team does aside. There isn’t a day Tyler doesn’t come home covered in sweat and his mind pleasantly gone. And his teammates usually made the whole thing worth it.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH THE CO-“

And there they were, going at it with the videos. Tyler was pretty sure the people outside could hear them, mouthing and yelling to a song their children should probably not be exposed to. And someone’s still probably filming him be a loser, if that got out, the texts from Brendon will probably be worse than the tweets.

"TYLER!!!"

So Tyler put on his happy face as soon as Nick swung onto him, the limo still hurtling its way through Columbus. This was always so odd for him, putting on a real big smile for Twitter, because apparently people really cared about him. Tyler only worked the Twitter, no Instagram, no Youtube, no nothing. Most of the time it wasn’t even him tweeting. Nick smiled at him, showing his teeth even, giving a warm feeling to Tyler. And Tyler shrugged, smiling back at him, as he looked casually at Nick’s phone camera. He laughed as the phone was whisked away, silently glad he didn’t have to speak.

“Hey bro, hands off!”

Then Nick left Tyler’s side, making a leap across the small space of the limo. It was probably illegal for everyone to be moving so much when the vehicle was also in motion, but it wasn’t like they all particularly cared much about their well being. The whole group consisted of thrill junkies, just really really tall and now really, really rich thrill junkies. The video then went straight to twitter, making it online before they even got to the gym, and Tyler was graced with seeing some of the reaction. Mainly the reaction about him.

 **Nickk T** @NickThomas  
My bro **@tylerrjoseph** and the team havin some fun lol #NBAfinals  bit.ly/72usnkjas89 

 **Ash** @ashleyfgpne77  
**@NickThomas @tylerrjoseph** holy shit tyler”

 **Cassidy Twiddle** @casstw_ts  
#NBAfinals tall guys do it best <33333 t.co/29jasu4mo 

There was more, and Tyler ended up smiling a lot with this silly grin like he’s the happiest he'd ever been. His emotions were weird. The whole deal was ridiculous, the fact he was sitting in a limo going to the NBA Finals was absurd. It’s his childhood dreams come alive. And so he was grinning, and briefly Tyler wondered if that what true happiness was like.

Like happiness was a fleeting smile flashed out because people he didn't know liked him. Like happiness was a craving for validation.

As far as it concerned Tyler, it was, so he's scrolling through retweets as the car stops at the gym and they all pile out. Tyler shoved his phone into his jean pocket and entered the building. Holy shit, they were really going to do this. And while everything was really familiar, the arena itself had been home for the past 3 years; everything was really bright in Tyler's head. All the colors seemed oversaturated, too false for his eyes.

But they are really there.

And the other team is really there too.

And they went head to head, in a whirlwind of menial practice and then the actual game itself. In the Columbus arena where Tyler grew up, where they played a damn good game, but more importantly where they made basket after basket after basket and Tyler's reminded of those humid summer days doing the same motions over and over again.

They end up winning the title.

**Author's Note:**

> Tyler isn't this good at basketball. 
> 
> Updates are slow.  
> I'm also writing another fic. 
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> this is full of mistakes and it went through like 8 tense changes so it is honestly A Mess


End file.
